


Hands Over Hips

by apocryphile



Category: West Wing
Genre: F/M, Post-Canon, Post-Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-25
Updated: 2012-03-25
Packaged: 2017-11-02 13:00:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/369233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/apocryphile/pseuds/apocryphile
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lou has an uncomfortable conversation with her boss about public displays of affection.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hands Over Hips

**Author's Note:**

> Shout-out to the West Wing fangirl posse on Tumblr who motivated me by being super sweet about my last offering. I very much doubt this ultra-prolific pace is going to last long, but I'm having a blast!

"He did it again!"

Lou stomped in to Sam's office without knocking and glared - there was actually a faint growling noise, he was almost sure - until his trio of assistants (who between them still didn't even come close to Donna's haphazard but attentive efficiency when she’d had the job) stopped gawking and scrammed.

Sam knew exactly what Lou was referring to, and wished he didn't.

"I swear to you that it's not code for 'we are having lots of sex in our offices on the taxpayers' dime'."

"I know that. Sensible people know that. Fox News does not know that. Or rather they do but they'll pretend not to, which is worse."

Sam sighed, and offered his customary explanation.

"Donna's tall. Don't tell Josh, but I'm pretty sure she's taller than him."

"By a hair," Lou deadpanned, and Sam forgot he was meant to be mad at her and roared with laughter. When he got his breath back he tried to finish making his point.

"That's just where his hand comes to rest. My wife's shorter than I am, so it's her waist. They're about the same height, and so it's her hip."

"It's below her hip."

"Yeah, but he's not..." for a split second, Sam made a cupping motion, and then looked aghast, buried his head in his hands and wished really, really hard to be almost anywhere but the middle of this conversation.

"You have to talk to him."

He slowly lifted his head, and then raised his eyebrows at her.

"You want me to tell my boss, who is also my best friend, that he needs to keep his hands off his fiancée, who is also one of my best friends?"

She nodded like he was being slow, and he almost laughed again.

"I don't think so."

"You just said it yourself, he's your best friend! You think he'd rather hear it from me?"

Sam smirked.

"Not even remotely, which is exactly why I think you should do it."

"How do I even bring it up?"

"You didn't need much of a preamble just now! Just go and see him, tell him you saw him do it again and that he needs to stop."

To his bemusement, Lou took his advice in stride. She nodded firmly, straightened up to reach her full height of about 5-nothing, turned on her heel and marched off.

"Now? You're going to do it now?"

Grabbing the nearest folder so he'd have a plausible cover to step in and throw everyone else out if Josh had a not unlikely nutty about his staff micromanaging his relationship with Donna, he scurried off behind her. 

He rounded the corner just as Lou barreled straight past Margaret and into the Chief of Staff's office, yelling at her customarily penetrating volume.

"Joshua Lyman, so help me God, if you can't keep your hands off--"

There was what sounded like a squeak, and then silence. Sam peeked cautiously around the door. 

Josh was standing in the middle of his office, his face the very picture of surprise. And, predictably enough, wrapped in his arms but now half turned away from him and trying valiantly not to laugh, was Donna. 

It only took Lou a second to regain her composure.

“So, I should have knocked. And what you do when you’re in here is…” she trailed off and looked at the door connecting to the Oval Office. “Well, I was going to say no concern of mine, but it’s kind of a concern for, you know, everyone when the leader of the free world could walk in at any moment.” She turned back to face her boss. “But hey, as long as I don’t have to see you naked, really, whatever.” She took a deep breath. “However, when you’re on camera, boss, please, in the name of all that is holy, don’t” – she gestured vaguely in midair towards Donna’s back – “do that.”

Josh – who had in fact just been on the receiving end of a more gently-worded but no less pointed rebuke from Donna herself – feigned innocence.

“What?” He ran his hand up Donna’s back to the nape of her neck, and then gently turned her head back towards him. “This?” He kissed her softly, lingering, and then nudged the side of her nose with his as he pulled back.

Lou looked pained.

“No. When you do that, everyone goes all gooey and ridiculous and writes puff pieces about romance and fate and, now that you’re engaged, such fascinating topics as the color of your bridesmaids’ hair accessories. I couldn’t possibly care less about that. I mean – oh, kill me now – your hands. On her…”

“Posterior?”, supplied Donna, who was desperately trying not to catch Sam’s eye. This was getting easier as by now Sam was basically clutching the doorframe to keep himself upright, trying to contain his laughter. 

“Oh,” said Josh. “That.”

He managed to move his fingers about an eighth of an inch down before his fiancée slapped his hand and stepped away from him. He pouted.

Sam got his breath back for long enough to speak.

“I assured her it wasn’t code for 'we are having lots of sex in our offices on the taxpayers' dime'.”

Josh grinned.

“Well, if that isn’t, maybe the communications staff can help me come up with something else that is, because…”

He ducked just in time to avoid a smack to the back of the head. 

Lou made an exasperated sound somewhere between a sigh and a roar.

“Now that we’ve cleared that up, can we go back to, I don’t know, fixing the economy? Or something else less embarrassing than this, which is, you know, everything?”

“Helen had some questions about bikinis versus one-pieces,” came a voice from behind her. “With swimsuit season coming up, she didn’t want to project the wrong image. You know.”

Everyone stood up a little straighter and there was a chorus of “Good morning, Mr President”.

“Lou, I may be the unlucky tenant behind the only door to Josh’s office that doesn’t lock, but there were girls by the time I got to Annapolis, I know what a necktie on the door handle means.”

Almost simultaneously, Donna and Lou both buried their heads in their hands.

“On a more serious note, I’m the one responsible for the fact that all of you are missing out on a lot of quiet, private time at home – for your families, your significant others, and yourselves. So I’m the last one to begrudge anyone a little intimacy, especially considering my wife lives above the store, so to speak.”

“Thank you, Sir. I, ah, should point out, for the record, that I was kidding. And that if we could find a way to never have this conversation again, that’d be fine.”

“Hear, hear,” Lou piped up.

Sam realized he did actually need to talk to Josh about the folder in his hand, and stepped further into the office. Lou glared at him as she walked past, heading back to the communications bullpen to resume her reign of terror over her awestruck staff. 

Donna gave the President as smile as he, too, left the Chief of Staff’s office, and then turned back to Josh and Sam.

“I think she handled that a lot better than Toby would’ve.”

That was the final straw. Sam laughed until he had to wipe his eyes. While he was recovering, Josh kissed Donna goodbye, demonstrating that he’d taken the morning’s discussions on board by running his hands through her hair instead.


End file.
